The Red-Haired Assassin: Under Every Sky

Summary

Malachi has lost everything in his life, his family, his right to his throne and now his precious sister has been taken prisoner by the man Malachi has been trying to avoid. He must allow himself to be captured so he may save Lisabeth from becoming his enemy’s wife although it has placed him in certain danger.

Rozalaine is proud and beautiful and stands protective over the usurper’s throne. She doesn’t expect the fierce attraction she feels for the handsome, former Prince but it’s too late for that to matter. She has a deadly plan to kill the usurper prince so Malachi can regain his birthright, but first she must convince Malachi of her fealty to his cause.

“She’s a traitor,” Malachi spat. “I saw her this morning as Padiskan left her bed.”

“You’ve been watching my house?” Her eyes narrowed as her hand reached for a dagger that wasn’t there.

Once aware of her plan, Malachi tries to force her to give it up, but Rozalaine has her own reasons for wanting the Usurper dead and refuses to accept Malachi’s power over her.

"You don't have the authority to stop me," Roz hissed, incensed by his arrogance. He wasn't Prince yet and would only become so once she had completed her self-imposed mission.

Can Malachi find a way to stop Rozalaine's certain death, or will he lose the only woman worthy of his love?

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The Red-Haired Assassin - Julie Kavanagh

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The Red-Haired Assassin

Chapter One

M ake way for the former Prince Malachi.

The tall, fair-headed man took a deep breath and stepped into the King’s Chamber. All eyes turned to him as they watched his approach to the gilded throne and the brightly-dressed man sat upon it. Silence filtered through the large room, and even the musicians playing in the minstrels’ gallery, lowered their instruments to watch this historic moment.

Courtiers dressed in colors of celebration, gaudy scarlet, brilliant blue and canary yellow, left their conversations, ceased their dances and turned to view the dethroned Prince, the loser in the battle for this land.

Malachi moved slowly forward as his path opened, lined by fascinated faces. He kept his expression neutral with no trace of the fury living deep inside. Gareff and what remained of his men moved in time behind him. They wore cloaks of the deepest purple, Malachi's shade, the mark of his royal blood. How long would he be allowed to keep his color?

The black-clad soldiers followed closely, their eyes darting every which way. They would allow no harm to come to the new Prince or any of his foolish courtiers from the exiled ex-royal and his handful of supporters.

Keeping his eyes on the bottom step of the dais leading up the throne, Malachi stepped forward, ignoring the curious faces of those who sided with the other man, the victor. His eyes swept upwards, taking in the sight of the usurper sitting on what should have been his throne, and wearing his crown. He swallowed down his resentment for it would do him no good here, and plastered a warm smile on his lips.

Greetings, Malachi. It is good to welcome you at last to my court. Padiskan grinned and waved a heavily bejewelled ring in the younger man’s direction and crossed one leg over the other knee as he leaned back. He laid one hand over his protruding belly, covered by a rich red velvet waistcoat whilst the other rested on the arm of his padded and opulent throne. Your sister, the former Princess Lisabeth is settled in her chamber with her maid. I’m certain she will be pleased to hear of your arrival.

That was a joke since it had become common knowledge how Malachi had been discovered and ‘escorted’ to the palace. He stood now in the territory of his enemy rather than enjoying the opportunity to return to his home.

Prince Padiskan, it is my honour to welcome you to my country. Malachi sighed in relief at his sister’s safe-keeping, dropped to one knee with his head bent, his actions contradicting the slur escaping his lips. Please accept my condolences on the death of your father.

Instead of leaping to his feet in fury, the man on the throne laughed loudly at his audacity.

Do stand, former Prince Malachi. The new Prince commanded and Malachi could do nothing but obey. As he stood, he took in the number of sentries standing guard over the usurper, although he ignored the bunch who had followed him in. He already knew their worth – they followed whoever paid the most.

Two large men, dressed in black leather stood, arms crossed over their massive chests as their dark eyes danced over the men accompanying him. Another man, thick of girth and dressed more in the style of a dandy than the leader of the new Prince’s military strength stood at his side, but the figure behind the throne interested Malachi the most.

She stood tall for a woman, and yet he knew she had born of the same land as him. Her hair shone a beautiful dark red which caught the light and had been pulled into a tie at the nape of her neck. Her skin looked pale although much remained hidden beneath the dark uniform of a paid assassin. Malachi didn’t think he had ever seen such a beautiful creature in his entire life and wondered much it cost Padiskan to keep this woman by his side.

Isn't she wonderful? The Prince glanced behind him, noticing Malachi’s interest before rising and holding out a hand for the woman to take. She hesitated as though unsure before accepting it and stepping down the dais in the Prince’s shadow.

She is most beautiful. Malachi inclined his head to the woman while maintaining his smile and masked the rush of his blood around his body caused by her presence. Her eyes are the color of the Bedarisus Ocean. The image of her eyes brought a memory to his mind; he'd seen the like only once before.

I've never been to the ocean to witness its color. The woman studied Malachi as though trying to ascertain his worth, a frown etched on her brow before taking his compliment and reducing it to a thing of